


The Expert

by FantasyFiend09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Danger, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyFiend09/pseuds/FantasyFiend09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finally gets a good case, but the Aurors are going to need some outside help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Expert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nearlyconscious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlyconscious/gifts).



> Dear nearlyconscious, you had so many great prompts to chose from. I hope I've whipped up something you like. Enjoy!

“Guess who I saw in the Atrium?” Ron asked, dropping his gloves and hat on the floor by the coat rack, before removing his damp travel cloak. He gave the cloak a shake, spraying water over a Wanted poster on the wall.

Harry looked up from the latest memorandum on raid procedure and started considering possibilities. In vain. As usual, Ron couldn’t wait long enough for Harry to hazard a guess.

“Draco Malfoy! He was talking with Eric at security. Looked like he was having his wand weighed and getting a guest pass.” Ron leaned against the thin partition that separated their cubicles looking curious instead of suspicious. It was amazing what a few years could do. “I wonder what he’s here for. Wasn’t he in Italy or something?”

Greece. Harry knew this because he always found himself collecting bits of information about Draco Malfoy. He had hoped his obsession would die off after the war, but he found himself at Draco’s trial testifying on his behalf. Even worse, after using Draco’s given name all through his testimony—the better to distance Draco from his father—Harry had found it impossible to go back. His brain simply supplied _Draco_ and his tongue followed.

He’d been sure his interest would ease once he was busy with Auror training, but somehow Hermione’s visits to London always included an update on how Draco and the other Slytherins were adjusting back at Hogwarts. And when Harry went to Hogwarts to visit her and his other friends, he couldn’t help but search the halls for tall, pale blonds.

It didn’t help that Luna had all but adopted Draco and would occasionally bring him to Hogsmeade lunches at the Hog's Head where he quietly ate at her side. He didn’t say much, but his occasional smirk and raised brow showed that he was following the conversations around him and still had plenty of opinions.

He just wasn’t sharing them, and Harry found himself disappointed each time those pale pink lips twitched with an unsaid comment.

Harry had wanted to draw Draco into conversation. He would try to think of something to say to him, only to run out of time before Draco finished eating and excused himself from the group. Sometimes Harry would wonder if he should have returned to Hogwarts as well. Late at night, he would imagine taking classes with Draco again but them finally talking and becoming friends.

Right. Like that would happen.

And maybe Draco would admit his undying love and they would live happily ever after with two and a half children and a dog. And maybe Umbridge would become a kind person, and Azkaban would be voted Tropical Resort of the Year and start serving daiquiris.

He laughed at himself in his head. He was mad.

Something hit him in the face, and it took him a moment to pull his thoughts back to the Auror Department and the memo now sitting on his desk. Ron laughed at him and snatched up the paper.

“Oooh. New case. Robards wants to see _both_ of us immediately.”

It must be a big case to require two fully-trained Aurors from the onset. The department was still rebuilding its numbers after the war, and Robards rarely over-allocated personnel for anything but raids.

Harry smiled. “I’ll be glad for something more exciting than confiscating a borderline Dark object from a wrinkled old witch who swears it’s been in her family since Merlin’s time.”

Ron snorted his agreement before commenting that they had better wrap the case up quickly. It was only a fortnight until Christmas and Molly wouldn’t take any excuse for missing it.

Harry slipped his Auror robes on over his t-shirt and jeans then followed Ron down the hall to Robards’ office. A witch was already standing in front of Robards’ desk with her red curls tie back from her face. Auror Fernsworth turned to face them with one of her smug grins that pulled at the skin around her nose.

Three Aurors? Harry felt a bit giddy at the thought of working a major case, especially with Ron.

Robards greeted them tersely and then flicked his hand to indicate they could sit. Harry conjured a chair and sat down, grateful he had finally mastered the spell to the point that his chair had a thin layer of padding and didn’t rock or creak. His first year had included many embarrassing briefings, including one where the legs of his chair gave out and he tumbled to the floor in front of several colleagues. Robards had given him desk duty for a month after that. And confiscated his chair.

As usual, Robards’ briefing was short and simple: Bloodrot Poison, which was illegal to produce or possess, had been used in three murders in the past six months. Four more vials had been found on suspects arrested for other crimes or at crime scenes. The style of vial was consistent, implying one organisation distributing the potion.

“Bottling is clearly uniform, but the production and distribution may not be. We don’t know whether this is one group from growing the herbs to selling the potions or if many different organizations are involved. As such, I want each of you to take a part of the process but remain in constant communication. It is—”

A knock on the door interrupted him. Harry waited for Robards’ usual rant at the expense of his assistant, but instead Robards called out a simple invitation to enter. The door opened and his assistant stuck his mousy face in the crack. “They’re here, sir.”

“Yes, yes. Send them in!” Robards gestured for his Aurors to shove down and make room for more. It was a spacious office, but Harry hoped too many people weren’t coming in.

A cloaked figure entered first with her large hood obscuring her face. An elderly woman judging by the small wrinkled hands clasped in front of her. Next was a stunning witch with dark almond eyes and shining black hair that fell down her back so perfectly Harry could hear Hermione’s voice in his head, muttering about Sleakeazy potions. The last person to enter was Draco Malfoy.

Next to the young witch’s dark skin and striking features, Draco should have looked sickly and ordinary. There was no change to his usual pallid complexion despite three years in Greece. An image of Snape came to mind, and Harry supposed Potioneers didn’t have many opportunities to tan.

Draco’s colouring may have been the same, but his face showed the passage of time. His sharp nose looked less rodent-like on a man’s face than it had on the little boy he’d once been. His angular features now said aristocratic instead of ferret-face. Harry let his eyes fall to Draco’s chest and regretted the way his grey robes hid his body. From under the robes, smooth black leather shone from two well-polished, pointed shoes. The leather looked amazingly soft, and Harry found his fingers itching to touch.

Forcing his gaze back up, he met Draco’s eye. Draco’s lips were tugged to the side in obvious amusement, and a single eyebrow lifted as if to say, _Oh really, Potter? Like what you see?_

It was a small mercy that Robards chose that moment to resume speaking, bringing all eyes back to him.

“I want to know who is responsible for this, and I mean _everyone_ involved from growing the Bloodrot to getting the Potion on the streets. And I _certainly_ want to know if any apothecaries or Potions shops are involved.” He turned a pointed look on the hooded witch, who turned toward Draco and back.

Robards made an annoyed grunt. “Everyone in this room has been carefully vetted, Sylvie. He’s one of ours now.”

“It’s my blood on your hands if you’re wrong, Gawain.” The witch’s voice was sharp, but she lowered her hood to reveal a shrewd face with a large nose surrounded by a mass of grey curls.

Draco’s eyes widened. “You work for the Ministry?”

Sylvie cackled, making her the picture of a Muggle Halloween witch. “Since I left Hogwarts, my boy.” She smiled smugly. “I just work in the shadows of Knockturn rather than this glorified badger hole.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked from Robards’ desk to the Ministry acclamations on the wall.

Robards cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, back to the case. Fernsworth, you and Sylvie have worked together successfully in the past. I’d like you two to handle distribution. Find out how it’s getting into people’s hands and whether any shops are involved.” The two witches smiled at each other in a ruthless way that made Harry glad they were on his side.

That left Draco and the other witch, and Harry would have to work with one of them. Part of him wanted to volunteer to work with Draco. Ron would certainly thank him. Despite Hermione’s improved relationship with Draco, Ron had never become a fan. Them working together would be a challenge to say the least.

But Harry working with Draco would be impossible. He no longer held any animosity toward Draco, but that had created a greater problem. Apparently the animosity was the only thing keeping Harry from noticing just how attractive Draco was. There was just something so compelling about that smug mouth and the way he lifted his eyebrows in silent question. And the less said about those long slender fingers, the better. Thank God he was wearing that figure-hiding robe. Harry wouldn’t function otherwise.

No. Harry could not work with Draco. He would stare and obsess and embarrass himself horribly. Luckily, he was pants at Potions and could use that as an excuse. It certainly sounded more professional than admitting he was fighting down a stiffy.

“I’ll take ingredients, Sir.” Harry looked right at Robards so he would miss Ron’s and Draco’s reactions. “I was much better at Herbology than Potions.”

Robards twisted his lips in a knowing smile. “Fair enough. Weasley, you work with Miss Bey.”

Wait, what? Miss Bey? No!

Ron was supposed to work with _Draco_! Draco did Potions! He had gone to the Greek Institute of Potions and Herbol… oh shit.

Harry missed Robards’ departing words, but it was clear they were dismissed when Robards began handing out files. Harry Vanished his chair and followed the team out of the office. Sylvie had put her hood back up and stepped to the side to speak with Draco and Bey. Their heads were close together and they gestured to the file Bey held in front of them.

A knock to his shoulder alerted Harry he was staring. Again. Ron looked from Harry to Draco and back before rolling his eyes. “You set that up nicely,” he teased.

Oh fuck. Ron thought he’d _tried_ to be with Draco. “No, Ron, I—”

Ron just waved him off. “I’m glad actually. Maybe if you spend all day talking _to_ him you won’t need to spend so much time talking _about_ him.”

Harry didn’t … did he? Sure, he might make a comment if something reminded him of Draco, but that was rare. Well maybe not _rare_ , but—

Another knock to his shoulder and Ron nodded to where the experts had broken apart. Draco was walking toward them looking confident, gorgeous, and smug. It really wasn’t fair how comfortable he looked in Harry’s own department. Harry barely managed to gesture for Draco to follow him back to his cubicle lest he choke on his own tongue in an attempt at speech.

Once there, he struggled to find words to break the ice. He refused to relive those Hog’s Head lunches where he never found something to say in time. They were working together. They _had_ to talk. 

“I didn’t know you were good at Herbology.” Okay, not an inspired conversation starter, but better than creepy silent staring.

Draco shrugged. “Why would you? You took it with the Hufflepuffs.”

_Because I thought I knew everything about you?_ No. Best not to say that. He was trying to seem _less_ creepy. He shrugged awkwardly instead.

“Right then.” Draco pulled out the wand Harry had used to end the war and conjured a beautifully carved chair with red velvet cushions. “Let’s see what drivel has made it into the file thus far.” He sat down, crossing one long leg over the other and displaying a black boot laced with a series of delicate silver hooks. The leather was so rich and supple.

Draco coughed and gave him a pointed look before flipping open his copy of the file and beginning to read. Not wanting to appear useless, Harry opened his own file at his desk and did the same.

The problem with case files was that they were rather dry reading and rarely held Harry’s attention in the face of any sort of distraction. It was why he had requested the cubicle in the corner once Gomez retired and why he kept his desk free of distractions. Now, of course, he had the greatest distraction of all sitting right across from him, using his parchment and licking his quill.

Shit.

How was he meant to read this bloody thing? Right. Notes from murder cases. History of the Bloodrot Potion. A mess of information about the various ingredients involved including the Ministry classification. Harry knew it would be important to sort which ingredients were legal and not, but he could barely keep his eyes on the page. He was beginning to feel rather peckish as well, but he didn’t want to be the first to stop working. Finally Draco set his file down and held up a sheet of parchment with a three column grid.

“I’ve divided the ingredients based on any Ministry restrictions.”

He set the parchment in front of Harry and then walked around the desk until his robes were gently brushing against Harry’s arm. “These,” he pointed at the first column, “are unregulated. They are so common that they can be bought at any apothecary or grown in a garden.”

So of no interest or help.

“These,” Draco leant slightly closer to reach the middle column. Harry could smell a garden on a summer’s day with the hints of leaves, dirt, and sunshine. Extra impressive for December.

“These are controlled or regulated in some way. They are legal to sell, but the apothecary needs a special licence and must keep records. Weasley will need to visit the apothecaries to determine if our Potioneers are purchasing them legally. If not, they go in the next column.”

Harry nodded. "I'll check with the suppliers to make sure they only sell to the apothecaries Ron is checking.” There. Harry _could_ sound like the competent Auror he was, even to Draco.

Draco pressed against Harry’s body as he stretched to point at the far column. He tapped a graceful finger on his own elegant script. “These are the ingredients being grown illegally.”

Harry barely heard as he realised he could feel the sharp hardness of Draco’s hip against his biceps. He wanted to grab that hip and use it to turn Draco to face him. Draco’s crotch would be right there. He would just need to part Draco’s robes and then he could see the way Draco’s trousers hugged him. They were probably expensive trousers. Perfectly tailored to display everything. Or maybe Draco didn’t wear trou—

“Potter!”

Harry blinked and tried to gather his wayward thoughts back to the case. Potions. Ingredients. Right. “So I need to figure out where these ingredients are being grown and who is doing it.”

Draco gave him an indulging smile, and Harry felt like a small child being schooled. “Yes. I can help you with where, but who is all on you.”

“The best chance of discovering who is behind this is to discover where.” Harry knew the farm had to be in Britain or Ireland. The wards along the Channel were too strong to Apparate through, and they only accept official Portkeys which landed in the Ministry for a bag and body scan.

“I can narrow it down for you.” Draco smiled smugly before leaning across Harry once again to point out one of the entries in the illegally grown column. “Squib’s Friend. It’s not what kills the person; it more like insult to injury. It destroys the victim’s magic, so by the time he feels the initial dizziness of the poison, he is hindered in his attempts to save himself.”

“So what kills them, then?”

Draco took a step back to properly display his scorn. “It appears you are as abysmal at Herbology as you were in Potions.” The words were tempered by the amusement in his eyes. It wasn’t the nastiness from school, but a bit of playful ribbing that felt oddly friendly.

Harry had to smile. “I am abysmal at Potions. In Herbology, I am only mediocre.” He let his smile twist into a smirk. “But if I were brilliant at Herbology, the Aurors wouldn’t need to hire an external expert, now would they?”

Draco dipped his head. “Touché. I’m impressed, Potter.”

That comment went straight to Harry’s groin. He wanted to start parading around like a peacock.

“All right, Potter. I’ll do my duty and inform you on the basics you should have learned in fourth year. The Potion in question is called Bloodrot Poison, which you would know if you’d been listening to Robards instead of trying to strip my robes off with your eyes.”

Harry choked on his own saliva, and Draco waited patiently while he coughed awkwardly.

“Bloodrot Poison is named after its primary ingredient. Bloodrot, as the name suggests, eats away at human blood and tissue. The effect of ingesting it—whether in a potion or not—is similar to placing the digestive tract into a vat of acid.”

It was a nasty way to go, and Draco looked a bit peaky for a moment before collecting himself again.

“Which is why your lot need to get it off the streets. I have too many enemies.” His smile was a little too tight to pull off the playful tone.

“The good news is that this particular Potion includes Squib’s Friend, and Squib’s Friend is a real bitch to grow.” He sat on Harry’s desk and stretched his long legs out across the floor. Harry had to resist reaching over to find his thighs under all that grey fabric.

“Very sensitive to temperature and needs sun year round to flower.” He gave Harry another look of amused condensation. “The flowers are what go in the potion.”

He waved his hand airily, clearly enjoying listing all the things he knew that Harry didn’t. “There certainly isn’t enough annual sunlight in Scotland. I would think South West England is most likely. Perhaps Wales.” He turned his smug grin on Harry and waved his finger in mock scolding. “And no, you can’t use sunlight spells because the plant destroys the magic.”

Harry ignored Draco’s proximity, instead doing his job. “What about sunlamps?”

“What?”

“Muggle invention. Muggles use it to grow plants inside. They make fake sunlight.”

Draco looked gobsmacked for a moment before his face contracted in a familiar scowl. “Bollocks. That throws the field wide open again.” He pulled the parchment back as he got up from the desk and began pacing. “Okay, forget sun. Let’s look at heat.”

Harry almost hated to say it. “Muggles have heaters, too.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Fine. Altitude. Have Muggles found a way to fake that, too?”

“Not that I know of.”

Draco sagged. “Well it doesn’t really narrow it down much, anyway.” He glared at the list. “Ben Nevis and Snowdon were unlikely locations to begin with.”

Harry hated seeing Draco look disappointed. He was so enticing when he was smug. “Well, you said it can’t be near magic without destroying it. Since no one has reported charms suddenly failing in certain areas...”

Draco held up his hand. “No, Potter. I think your idea about Muggle things is our best hope. We need to learn whether Squib’s Friend can grow with Muggle sun.”

Harry tried to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that came from Draco praising Harry’s idea. “How do we do that when it’s illegal to grow it?”

Draco’s smug grin was back, and Harry realised he would do anything to keep it there. “You ask someone who worked with it for years before it became illegal.” He gathered his file and gave a little salute. “Until tomorrow.”

Harry watched him go, wishing his arse weren’t covered by robes.

Determined not to be idle, Harry decided to Apparate to Snipter's Farm, Europe’s biggest supplier of magical plants outside of Italy. If the restricted plants were being bought legally, they were almost certainly being grown at Snipter’s. Rodney Snipter was the curmudgeonly old wizard who had been running the family farm for the past eighty years, but luckily for Harry, his nephew Reggie was far more personable.

And baked.

A short chat with Reggie not only provided Harry with a delicious raisin scone, it confirmed that the controlled ingredients not going to St Mungo's were going to Slug and Jigger in Diagon Alley. The shops on Knockturn couldn’t get the Ministry license to carry them, and the little shops scattered around the countryside tended to stick to the most conventional ingredients. Harry sent a Patronus with his findings to Ron.

As he was leaving for the next farm, he saw movement in one of the long glass greenhouses. There was old Rodney Snipter waving a gnarled hand around as he spoke to none other than Draco Malfoy. Of course! If Squib’s Friend had been legal any time in the last century, old Rodney would know about it. Harry couldn't help but smile at Draco's cleverness.

* * *

An advantage of working with his best mate was that Harry could combine a briefing with dinner. He Flooed into Ron and Hermione’s cottage to find Hermione curled up in an oversized armchair with a large tome on her lap.

"Harry!" She snapped the book shut and stood to embrace him. "Ron says you are working with Draco." She was beaming. "I'm so glad he's back in the country and already consulting for the Ministry."

"Reckon they are the only ones who'll have him," came Ron's voice before he walked into the room. "They have Aurors to keep an eye on him." It was the usual talk, but there wasn't much feeling behind it and Hermione didn't even throw anything at him.

She looked back to Harry. "Seriously though, I am so glad you are working together. Ron says you even volunteered."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that he had meant to avoid Draco by choosing Herbology, so he simply made a vague comment about going with his stronger subject and then asked about dinner.

She allowed the change in topic and called them into the kitchen where she pulled a pie from the oven and set it at the table. "Steak and ale tonight."

Ron looked from the pie to his wife and back again. His soppy expression stayed the same. "I don't know how she does it. It's as good as my mum's and she barely spends a moment in the kitchen."

Harry smiled at Hermione. "Tesco?"

She shrugged. "Yep. Same as last time. Why cook it from scratch when it's right there on the shelf just waiting to go in the oven?" No matter how many times she tried to explain it to Ron, he still viewed pre-prepared food with the same awe as Harry had for Hogwarts.

As they ate, Ron ignored Auror regulations around secrecy and filled Harry in on the case in front of Hermione.

"Nothing suspicious from Dublin to Knockturn. A few people buying controlled ingredients here and there, but very small amounts and not regularly."

Harry shared his own findings from the farms he had visited. All the normal channels showed no sign of large amounts of controlled ingredients being grown or purchased. Whoever was brewing the potion was either growing it themselves or had their own illegal provider.

"Well that's on you, then," Ron said with a smile as he lifted his pint. "You chose the plants. I just have to figure out who is brewing it and where. Fernsworth can find out how people are getting their hands on it."

Of course, they all knew that whoever solved their own mystery first would make life much easier for the others. Not that Harry was working alone. When he got home, he owled Ron’s findings to Draco.

* * *

Draco was beaming as he came into the Auror's office the next morning, shaking the rain off his travelling cloak. 

"Squib's Friend can't grow near electricity!" 

He conjured a lovely chair with a blue velvet seat before sitting regally across from Harry. He was wearing Muggle clothes, and the light blue jumper exposed delicate collar bones below his pale neck. Harry followed the line of his crisp trousers down to the warm brown Oxfords on his feet. The leather looked like chocolate, and Harry had a sudden image of licking Draco’s shoes.

Harry forced himself to process Draco’s words instead of fantasising about his footwear. The plant for the Potion. It couldn’t grow near electricity. 

"That's great! So sunlamps and heaters are out."

Draco looked deliciously smug. "Even better. You know those big Muggle structures that run long lines of thick wire?"

Harry nodded, pleased to hear Draco say the word Muggle with no hint of his past disdain. "Power lines. They carry electricity."

Draco’s eyes widened, showing more of their shining grey. "Well that explains it. Old man Snipter says that when he tried growing Squib's Friend anywhere near those big poles it wouldn't grow."

Harry could kiss him! Avoiding electricity would dramatically limit where the plant could be grown. Okay, maybe he would want to kiss Draco even if the man had brought him terrible news. But he hadn’t.

Draco’s dancing eyes meant there was more good news. “With the addition of the controlled plants they must be growing, I am almost certain they are growing in Wales.” He pulled out a map and circled an area with Harry’s quill. “Probably here.”

It was a good size area, but Harry could sweep it on his broom in a couple of days.

“Unless it’s in Devon.”

Harry glanced at Draco, who was frowning at the map. Then Draco shook his head. “No. Wales. Definitely Wales. Probably.” He muttered something about assuming all the plants were grown in the same place, but Harry decided to ignore it.

Harry was restless to get into the field and sweeping a defined area of Wales sounded much better than sitting in his cubicle waiting for Draco to find more information. He told Draco to continue researching while he began his sweep, but Draco stood abruptly and shook his head.

“Oh no. I’m coming with you.”

“You can't come in the field! You're a _civilian_ expert.”

“A civilian expert who can recognise the plants we are looking for. You wouldn’t know Squib’s Friend from Bellis Perennis, especially in the winter when they aren’t flowering.”

Harry considered denying that, but he knew it was true. “Fine.” He wrapped his heavy cloak around his shoulders. “You can fly with me, but if we find the farm—”

“I will need to examine the plants.”

Harry really wanted to argue. But what he could say? He had no idea what the plants looked like, flowering or otherwise. He needed Draco there, even if he hated putting Draco in danger.

He silently finished bundling up against the cold and led Draco to the supply cupboard that housed the Auror brooms with built-in Notice-Me-Not Charms.

* * *

It was very distracting to fly with Draco. Harry should have been scouring the countryside for greenhouses, wind tunnels, or just lots of plants. Instead, his eyes constantly drifted over to the man beside him.

Whatever Draco was doing over the past few years, it clearly included flying. He had always been naturally graceful on a broom, but the way he took to the Ministry broom as if he’d flown it for years spoke of experience.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, Harry was hungry and his body was feeling stiff and cold from the hours of flying. They had seen plenty of farms, but they had all been Muggle. He saw a village in the distance and gestured to Draco to land in a field. The Notice-Me-Not Charms prevented Muggles from seeing them flying overhead, but the Charm wasn’t strong enough for Muggles not to notice them landing in front of them.

The village was little more than a row of houses and a pub, but that was all they needed.

Draco looked slightly awkward at they entered the pub, but did not object to eating amongst the Muggles. He drank his cider without comment and thanked the server who brought them their sandwiches.

“Do you go to Muggle places much?” Harry kept his voice low so no one would hear.

Draco shrugged. “I did in Greece, but I am not sure how many customs are the same.” He smiled with half his mouth. “It felt safer there because when I made mistakes they wrote me off as an odd foreigner. Here, I’m always worried I will break the Statute of Secrecy.”

Harry laughed. “You’re a posh Wiltshire boy in rural Wales. They will _still_ write you off as an odd foreigner.” He winked and Draco laughed. It was a light self-deprecating laugh that Harry felt in his gut. He liked having lunch with Draco, talking about their work and their training. He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time.

* * *

It was several hours and many Muggle farms later when they saw the glimmer of magic around a decrepit barn. Harry had been on the verge of calling it for the day as the light was running low, but having seen the hint of a charm, he gestured for Malfoy to fly just above the ground with him. There was a hedgerow that ran along the farm, providing them with extra coverage as they approached the barn. It wasn’t until they were close that the illusion of the barn fell away and they saw a large greenhouse with two wind tunnels beside it.

Harry’s excitement at finding a magically concealed farm was only tempered by his apprehension about what dangers it might bring. He glanced over to Draco, wanting to tell him to fly to safety but also knowing he first needed Draco to identify what was growing. Left alone, Harry might arrest a wizard for growing cucumbers and runner beans.

He started listing safety precautions, but Draco cut him off.

“I had Voldemort living in my house for a year and you are worried about me tagging along to check a farm? It's unlikely anyone is even here!”

“Why wouldn’t they be?!” Harry was rather hoping to find a suspect to question. Just _after_ Draco had done his job and Harry had back-up.

Draco sighed dramatically. “Do you think they literally sit around and watch the grass grow? It's Friday evening. They are probably at home, sprucing up for a night of shady deals and fumbled sex.”

Hearing the word “sex” from Draco’s lips sent Harry’s mind in all the wrong directions. He needed to focus on the farm and keeping Draco safe. They dismounted their brooms and hid them in a hedge with some charms for good measure. It would be safer to approach on foot, but Harry didn’t want to risk the brooms being discovered and giving them away.

He cast a Disillusionment Charm on Draco and hated the way Draco slowly became part of the hedge behind him. Once Draco’s hand was on his left arm, Harry used his right to Disillusion himself and cast a Notice-Me-Not on both of them. Night was falling fast, but the moon was almost full and could expose them without charms.

Harry led the way to the first wind tunnel with only the solid pressure of Draco’s hand on his shoulder to assure him Draco was still with him. At the mouth of the tunnel, Harry stopped and ran his own hand up Draco’s arm to his shoulder. He leaned close to where he hoped his ear would be, sensing his warmth and the smell of summer days despite the chill of night around them. “I’ll stand watch,” he whispered. “You check the plants.”

He knew Draco had moved away when the air around him felt empty and cold. It felt like dread, but Harry refused to see it as an omen. He searched the space before him in the growing darkness, but everything was silent and still.

A gentle hand touched his back and slid up to his shoulder. “Controlled plants,” came Draco’s murmur by his ear. Harry’s mind supplied another scenario in which Draco might step up behind him and murmur in his ear. A scenario with less clothing and more heat. “No banned plants, but certainly they are growing controlled plants without a license.”

Harry tried to pull his mind back to the moment. Illegal production was enough to warrant a raid. He could send Draco to safety and get back up to secure the place. He could bring Draco back to do the search in the morning, in the light, with Ron and Fernsworth to assist.

Draco’s breath ghosted over his ear once more. “Greenhouse.” And then the comforting weight on his shoulder was gone.

Harry shot his hand out to where he thought Draco was but met only empty space.

Shit! He couldn’t call out for him and his own Charm was so strong that he couldn’t see Draco in the darkness. Harry glanced at the sky and saw the moon was hidden behind a dark cloud.

He crept to the greenhouse, torn between going inside to search for Draco and standing guard at the door. Best to stand in the doorway and let Draco find him than risk fumbling about and missing him. It would take more patience than he usually had, but it was the plan that kept Draco safest.

A small noise sent adrenaline surging through his body. A tiny crack. A broken stick? A distant or muffled Apparition? A wild animal wandering or a wizard returning to guard his crops?

He scanned the area outside, but he could make out little more than the outline of the wind tunnels against the deeper blackness behind them. He needed to get Draco out of there, but the safest—and quietest—way to find him was to silently stand guard and wait for Draco to come to him.

He turned to peer back into the tunnel and felt cool fingers poke him in the face.

“Sorry.”

Draco’s voice was low, but Harry felt it echo through the silent night.

A murmur came from outside and then there was a shout. Harry threw himself into the greenhouse just as two red lights whizzed by. There was a flash of green and a shattering sound before glass rained down on top of them. He felt the weight and heat of Draco’s body beside him and felt a rush of relief that he heard heavy but stable breathing.

To get Draco to safety, he needed to know the direction of the attack. Another flash of light came from the darkness beyond where they had searched. Away from the wind tunnels.

“When I say go, run through the tunnel we started in. Keep going no matter what.” Harry cast a Blasting Curse at the ground in the direction of the attackers and dirt filled the air around the greenhouse door. “GO!”

Harry ran threw the cloud of dirt toward the tunnel. He hoped Draco was with him, but he couldn’t hear him over his own footsteps and the blood rushing in his ears. A bump to his elbow eased the tension in his chest. Draco was beside him. They were at the mouth of the tunnel. They were inside. They were—

A flash of light exploded beside him and Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes taking in a flicker of movement on the ground before a roaring filled his ears and he realised he was flying backward through the air.

He landed hard against the wooden side of a raised planter and pain flared down his side. A mental check of his hand assured him he had maintained his wand, and he used it to cast a silent Numbing Charm on his side. His ribs had borne the brunt of the landing, and he only hoped he hadn’t punctured his lung. He would need it.

“Draco!” He didn’t care if he revealed his position to his attackers. He needed Draco to find him. Two spells zinged by as he crawled back to where he’d felt Draco fall. His fingers met hair and frantically he ran his hands over Draco’s face and chest. Movement. Breathing.

The spells were coming closer. Harry needed to buy them time. He cast several Blasting Charms at the front of the tunnel until he heard a shout of pain and saw the fabric of the tunnel collapse to the ground. With a quick Lightening Charm, he hoisted Draco over his shoulder and ran toward the back of the tunnel.

He wasn’t sure he had ever run so fast.

Out of the tunnel, he could see the landscape slope upward into a wooded area. Draco was stirring on his shoulder, but Harry ran until he reached the woods.

Draco wrestled to get down. “I can carry myself, Potter. I’ll follow you.”

Harry found Draco’s hand, holding it tightly in his own, before easing him to the ground.

They began to run.

Harry ducked branches and jumped roots, impressed at how well Draco stayed with him. Draco’s natural grace was almost a match for Harry’s hard training. Finally they stopped against a tree, and he heard Draco’s panting beside him. He desperately wanted to see him, but he knew the Disillusionment Charm was still important protection.

Harry didn’t know if they were clear, but he did know they needed back-up.

A flick of his wand and some whispered words had his stag racing off to find Ron. Harry stayed pressed against the tree, listening for any sound that they were being pursued and wishing he could check Draco for injuries.

A series of pops sounded and then Ron, Fernsworth, and two other Aurors were in front of him. He quickly briefed them and then turned back to the farm. He felt movement beside him and pressed Draco’s invisible body back against the tree. His hand over Draco’s chest, he could feel his heart beating below the lean muscle.

“You stay. This isn’t your job.” He could feel the argument brewing but he pressed Draco back harder. “You can Apparate back to the Ministry or you can stay here. I’ll send my Patronus when it’s safe.”

Without the distraction of Draco’s welfare, and with four more Aurors, Harry found taking out the attackers laughably easy. He returned the way he’d come and distracted them as his team swept in and Stunned them from behind. In mere moments, the threat was removed.

Fernsworth volunteered to take them to the Ministry. She was their best interrogator, and Harry sometimes wondered if she liked it just a bit _too_ much. But if anyone would get the information they needed, it was her. And Robards would keep her from going too far.

As the other two Aurors secured the perimeter, Harry briefed Ron on what had happened. His best friend listened patiently before clapping him on the shoulder and telling him to go home. “Or not home. Just find your _expert_ and call it a night. We can take it from here.”

Harry would have found the knowing look far more annoying if he hadn’t been thrilled with the message. He was running back to the woods before he was even aware he had made the decision to move, Ron’s echoing “Happy Christmas” coming from behind him.

All he could think about was Draco. Making sure he was safe. His…

A flash of light lit up his face before his body went rigid and he fell to the hard ground.

Had they missed one? Shit! Was Draco okay?

Footsteps approached and he was rolled onto his back with the toe of a shoe. A very scuffed, chocolate brown Oxford.

“Harry?” The spell left him and he relaxed against the dirt. His head and shoulder hurt from where he’d fallen against a raised tree root, and his ribs flared up again to remind him they hadn’t been treated.

Draco appeared from thin air as he dropped to his knees beside Harry’s aching chest. Cool hands ran over Harry’s face and arms as if searching for further injury.

“What happened to the Patronus? What were you thinking running in here like that?” Draco’s voice was too breathless to be properly scolding.

Harry gave him a pained smile. “Wanted to see you.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought Draco rolled his eyes as he mumbled some gentle insults.

“Not an idiot,” Harry protested as he sat up and rubbed the bump on his head. “But in some pain.”

Draco helped him to his feet. “Come along, you. I’m sure they have a room set aside for you at St Mungo’s.”

It wasn’t true. Harry didn’t have his own room. He did, however, have a favourite Healer who had him patched up and out the door in less than five minutes.

Back out on the streets of Muggle London—with a Notice-Me-Not so their cloaks didn’t attract attention—Harry no longer had his injuries to blame for his light-headedness or the tightness in his chest. “So …”

Draco just rolled his eyes. He did that a lot. Mainly at Harry. “Come along, Potter. Now that we have you all patched up, I think you owe me dinner.”

Harry wasn’t sure why _he_ owed _Draco_ dinner when it was _Draco_ who had abandoned the plan to search the greenhouse alone, putting both of them in unnecessary danger. But oddly Harry found he didn’t care in the face of getting to have dinner with Draco.

They walked side by side down the street toward the Leaky Cauldron and their world. The silence between them felt heavy, and Harry nearly jumped every time Draco’s hand, encased in soft cashmere gloves, brushed his own bare ones. His hands were freezing and he really should put his gloves back on, but he couldn’t give up that occasional contact, even as it was driving him mental.

Was this a date? Was this just two co-workers getting a meal after a hard day? Draco seemed aware of Harry’s interest, but he—

Harry felt Draco turn and shove him back against the wall. “I can hear you thinking, Potter. You are radiating nerves!” He was frowning and sounded rather annoyed. Would he change his mind and leave?

Draco sighed in clear annoyance, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s. Caught off guard, Harry might have made an embarrassing sound before seizing the opportunity to put his hands on Draco’s waist and pull him closer.

He smelled even better up close. Harry felt transported to the Greek countryside with its sunshine and warm dirt. Draco’s lips were soft, but his kisses were hard and demanding. Harry parted his lips, hoping to deepen the kiss, but Draco pulled back with a smirk.

“That’s all you’re getting until you buy me dinner.” Draco took a step away and adjusted his cloak. “You only got that because I am counting lunch as a first date.”

Harry just blinked at him. Was Draco going to count their dates? Was he the type of bloke who expected flowers and a card on the two month anniversary of the first time they held hands in public? The thought of a high-maintenance boyfriend should have been annoying. Hell, it should have sent Harry running. Instead, he found himself smiling.

“But if it’s a date I can’t get the Ministry to reimburse me!” he teased.

Draco smirked as he took Harry’s hand in his and pulled him away from the wall. “You can afford it.”

As they fell in step with the evening commuters and holiday shoppers, Harry could only notice the way Draco’s cashmere fingers wrapped around his own cold ones. Soft. Warm. So much better than wearing his own gloves.

He made a mental note of the date in case Draco expected it to be commemorated in a month’s time.

* * *

Harry was expecting Draco to choose the expensive new French place near Gringotts, but once they entered the Leaky, Draco walked up to the bar and began to order pints and cottage pies. He then stepped aside with a pointed look so Harry would pay.

Harry just smiled. It might have been a daft sort of smile given the look Tom gave him along with his change. Good thing Hannah wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She certainly would have had a comment or two for him.

Drinks in hand, they settled into a corner booth. “I prefer wine,” Draco confessed, “but Tom’s is shit. Better to stick to the Dragon Scale Ale.” He held up his pint in toast and Harry mirrored him. “To a job well done.”

“ _Part_ of a job,” Harry corrected. He didn’t want Draco to think he was done with Harry just yet.

Draco nodded his head in acceptance and asked about the next steps in the case. Harry explained that Fernsworth would likely know everything their prisoners did by the end of the night. If there were enough information to lead to a raid, it would happen without Harry. Robards had strict rules about shifts, and Harry wasn’t on call this weekend.

When Tom brought out their pies, Harry turned the conversation away from work and enjoyed more of Draco’s stories from his time in Greece. Apparently the local children had been taken with Draco’s hair, and Draco’s face lit up as he spoke of one tiny boy who insisted on petting his hair whenever they met. “Eventually I began wearing a hooded cloak despite the heat just to avoid collecting children like the Pied Piper.” He shook his head in a poor attempt at annoyance.

“Of course the cloak had it’s own problems. It covered my hair but not my face, and with my complexion some of the older boys called me ptóma.” He curled his lip up as he said the word. “It means corpse, Potter. Corpse.”

Harry couldn’t hold back the laugh that erupted from him. His mind was full of Draco interacting with children of all ages and not hexing a single one of them, even when provoked. He saw Draco’s sour look and tried to reign in his mirth. “Why _are_ you so pale still? I mean at Hogwarts, yeah, I get it. Scotland and all. But Greece? Working with plants must have gotten you outside.”

Draco raised a pale forearm. His right one, Harry noted. “This complexion goes straight from white to pink to red, Potter. There is no such thing as a tan Malfoy. And trust me, the pink isn’t cute and the red is atrocious. Sun Protection Charms are as much part of my morning ritual as cleaning my teeth and putting on socks.” Having made his point, he dropped his hand back to his pint.

Draco turned the conversation to his classmates in the Herbology program and the various pranks they liked to play. “We learned to be wary of each other, so instead we would torment each other’s _guests_ who didn’t know to check their beds at night and their shoes in the morning.” He snickered. “When Roberto’s sister came, I put all sorts of slimy things in her shoes, so when Pansy visited he …” Draco’s smile fell away and his shoulders tensed.

Did he really think Harry held a grudge after all this time? Well, Harry would put right to that. “How is Park—Pansy these days? I heard she didn’t return to Hogwarts.”

Draco shook his head, his eyes still watching Harry. “She and Daphne transferred to Durmstrang. They have been living and working in Rome for a couple of years, but they are considering moving back.” He sat very still, his usual ease missing from his posture.

Harry reached forward and covered Draco’s hand with his own. “I’m glad they're doing well, but I hope they do move back. It’d be nice for you to have your friends nearby.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “I’d hate it if Ron or Hermione moved away.”

Clever grey eyes searched Harry’s face before dropping to their joined hands. A smile spread across Draco’s face. “Perhaps this isn’t madness after all,” he murmured.

Harry thought back to their brief kiss on the street and realised he didn’t care, madness or not.

* * *

After they had eaten, Draco led Harry to the alley behind the pub. Instead of opening the passageway to Diagon Alley, Draco shoved Harry against a wall for the second time that night and kissed him.

Just as Harry was getting into it, Draco pulled back with a shark-like grin. “Date’s over. Next date starts in five minutes. I’ll meet you at Fortescue’s.”

Harry didn’t even have a chance to reply before Draco had disappeared back inside the Leaky. He considered following and demanding an explanation, but a little voice told him not to complain about getting what he wanted. If he wanted his life to make sense, he shouldn’t be pursuing Draco Malfoy.

He tapped his wand on the brick wall and made his way down the Alley to Fortescue’s parlour. It was rather exciting to think that in a few minutes Draco would appear, looking for him. As he pretended to read the specials off the blackboard out front, he imagined Draco stepping out of the crowd of evening shoppers, catching his eye, and then smiling.

“Harry!”

Jarred from his thoughts, he realised that the voice wasn’t Draco’s. He turned and saw Neville smiling at him. They exchanged pleasantries, and then Neville asked if Harry was waiting for someone. Harry couldn’t fight back his smile, and Neville chuckled.

“Hot date, then? Who with?”

Harry was expecting some surprise when he mentioned Draco, but Neville just nodded.

“I should have seen that coming. Have you been together long?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really sure. We went from agreeing to have dinner to about to start our third date in less than two hours.” At Neville’s confused look, Harry explained about the lunch that became a date after the fact and the ice cream that was made its own event.

Neville threw his head back and laughed with full amusement. If Neville hadn’t been wrapped in a travelling cloak, Harry probably would have seen his stomach shaking with the force of it. Instead Harry waited in bemusement as Neville wiped his eyes and slowly composed himself.

“That’s very funny,” Neville said. “Clever, but completely barmy.” He looked at Harry. “Course you would have no idea what he’s up to.” His eyes flicked to the side. “Your date approaches, so I’ll just say that good little pure-blood boys are raised not to have sex before the third date. I think Draco’s a little impatient, but not enough so to break with decorum.” He snorted a last laugh and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Have fun tonight!”

With a smile and wave to Draco, Neville was gone.

* * *

Harry didn’t taste his ice cream. He was pretty sure he was eating Butterbeer flavour, but his mouth and mind were both completely fixated on the man across the table who was licking bright green ice cream off his spoon. Oh, to be that spoon!

Was Neville right?

Harry’s mind revisited the two kisses he’d enjoyed so far and imagined kissing his way along Draco’s jaw and down his throat. Inhaling that surprisingly earthy scent from someone so polished and put-together. His hands would come up to the top buttons of that shirt and begin opening his collar.

“Potter.” A spoon tapped him on the forehead and he blinked Draco’s frowning face back into focus. “Honestly, Potter. We will get to that, but first eat your damn ice cream like a proper suitor.”

Harry nodded and shoved a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. Yes, it was Butterbeer. It was sweet and creamy, but completely unsatisfying. He managed another bite.

Draco rolled his eyes but took a large spoonful of his own ice cream.

A moment later, Draco shoved his bowl away. “Fuck it. That’s good enough for propriety’s sake.” He stood and picked up his travelling cloak. “Grab your cloak, Potter. You’ve pulled.”

* * *

They had barely stopped spinning from Apparition when Draco attached his mouth to Harry’s neck. Draco had an evil tongue, which he pressed against Harry’s neck right at his pulse-point. Harry suddenly understood the lure of vampires as Draco dragged his teeth along his neck, raising goosebumps with his hot breath.

Harry was grateful his front step was included in the Fidelius Charm or his neighbours would have gotten quite the show as he pressed Draco against the front door and his thigh against Draco’s crotch. 

Fuck, Draco was hard. So hard and so hot. Harry slid his hands into his cloak and began fumbling with the soft fabric of Draco’s jumper.

“Inside, Potter! Get us inside. I am _not_ shagging you on the doorstep of your Muggle neighbourhood.”

Harry figured pointing out the Fidelius Charm would probably not change Draco’s mind. It was rather chilly and the air was heavy with the promise of more rain.

He had to step completely away from Draco to regain enough concentration to open his door. It was a wonder his wand even stayed in his trembling fingers.

The second they crossed the threshold, Harry Apparated them to his bedroom. Draco could think him forward, but there was no way he was going to sit and drink a cup of tea. Propriety be damned.

They both knew what they wanted, and Harry was sick of waiting.

Instead of arguing, Draco began pulling off layers of clothing. His cloak fell to the floor and was joined by his jumper before Harry even had his shoes off. Once they were down to their boxers, Harry couldn’t keep his hands to himself any more. How could he with all that pale skin and lean muscle taunting him?

He crowded into Draco’s space and kissed him hard on the mouth. Something told him Draco wouldn’t appreciate cold hands on bare skin, so he happily grabbed Draco’s arse through his boxers and squeezed at the firm flesh of his cheeks. The boxers were cotton, but far softer than anything Harry owned, and Harry wanted to run his hands all over them.

Or maybe rip them off and just run his hands all over Draco.

Draco clearly like the latter plan, as he shoved Harry back and pulled off the remains of his clothing as Harry just stared at the appearance of Draco’s hard, pink cock. 

Harry’s own boxers suddenly felt stifling, and he quickly pulled them down.

“Of course, Potter,” Draco purred. “I should have known you’d be enormous.”

Harry felt embarrassment and pleasure rush in to heat his cheeks. He wasn’t _enormous_. That made him sound like he had a third leg. Yes, he was on the big side …

“You’re blushing.” Draco stepped forward and cupped Harry’s cheek with his hand. “Look how beautiful you are when you blush.”

Harry didn’t think he would like being called beautiful, but the word on Draco’s lips made Harry feel cherished in a way he never had before. He almost believed he _was_ beautiful.

Draco’s other hand wrapped around Harry’s cock, holding him in a firm grip that Harry felt could support him were his legs to fail. And they might just give out from the intensity in Draco’s eyes. 

He began stroking Harry with slow, sure strokes. “Look how you fill my hand, Harry. God, I need both hands.” He reverently added a second hand, his eyes now locked on the space between them where his hands moved in tandem.

Draco’s hands were smooth but his touch was firm. Harry found himself rocking his hips in time with each stroke, wanting to match Draco’s rhythm and follow his lead. Draco seemed pleased, mumbling fond words and making appreciative sounds.

Harry was feeling his orgasm build, hoping his legs would hold him, when Draco looked him straight in the eye.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Harry closed his eyes and let himself go to the sensations pulsing through him. A strong arm wrapped around him and he allowed himself to partially collapse against Draco’s chest. God, he smelled good.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw Draco’s fond smile waiting for him. He looked down at Draco’s stomach and saw Draco’s long pale fingers running through Harry’s come across his stomach and down to his own cock. His still-hard cock.

Harry tried to apologise for his neglect and reach for Draco to return the favour, but Draco stepped away.

“I assume you have a bathroom?”

Harry nodded and gestured to the en suite. Draco took Harry’s hand in his own sticky one and led him to the bathroom, where he started the shower. “We can clean up from today’s adventure before we continue.” He stepped into the water, and Harry discovered that—impossibly—Draco Malfoy could get sexier. 

The water darkened his hair from its ethereal glow to a mortal blond, making him more touchable for being human. The warm water pinked his cheeks and the top of his chest, where it made contact, until it matched the hue of the head of his cock. Each drop of water seemed determined to draw Harry’s eyes down over lean muscle and smooth skin to the evidence of Draco’s neglected arousal.

Harry stepped into the shower and immediately lowered himself to his knees. The tile was unforgiving under his knees, but Harry could think of nothing but a single drop of water running the length of Draco’s cock only to dangle at the end before plunging toward the drain. Harry followed its path with his tongue, swelling with pride at the moan he pulled from Draco’s lips. It became Harry’s personal challenge to draw longer and deeper sounds, working his tongue and contracting his throat as he bobbed his head.

“Your mouth, Harry. God, your mouth.” 

Harry could barely hear Draco’s murmured chants over the rush of the shower, but he felt Draco’s pleasure building in the way his fingers tightened in Harry’s hair and his hips lost their perfect rhythm. Harry tasted Draco’s skin and the water and, finally, Draco’s release. He gripped Draco’s hips to hold him steady as Draco panted against the wall of the shower.

“Come here, Harry. Stand up.” Draco’s words were insistent but so gentle. Once Harry was standing, Draco wrapped him in his arms and pressed kisses into his neck. “That was so good, Harry. So good.” Harry felt his cheeks heat and his chest swell at Draco’s words.

No longer distracted by the press of their arousal, they slowly bathed each other. Harry washed Draco’s hair, wondering at the way his hair felt even softer in the stream of the shower. Draco gave Harry and himself a very thorough cleaning of cock and arse, filling Harry’s mind with numerous possibilities for the rest of the night.

But in the end, they were so worn out by the time they made it back to the bedroom that they cuddled up together under the duvet and promptly fell asleep.

* * * 

Harry woke to a warm, solid presence and the sound of soft breathing. Something hard and slightly tickly was resting on his shoulder, and it only took him a brief moment of confusion before the events of the day before returned to him. He opened his eyes, knowing he would see Draco’s pale hair and his own bed. Seeing the two together did funny things to his stomach.

He ran his hand through Draco’s hair and was rewarded with a lifted head and a sleepy smile. A knot Harry hadn’t noticed before suddenly loosened in his chest. No awkwardness or regrets. He smiled back.

He decided to risk indulging his curiosity from the night before. “What’s with the three dates thing? We’re not bonded now or anything, are we?”

Draco laughed. “No, Potter. I can still drop you if you bore me.”

Harry tried to push him away, but Draco nuzzled in fiercely.

"It’s just tradition. No one ever told me why. They just laid down the law and expected perfect compliance.”

“And three dates in one day is perfect compliance?”

Draco lifted his head to show that perfect self-satisfied smirk of his, his eyes dark and almost dangerous. “We have been dancing around each other half our lives, Potter. I was not going to get hung up on technicalities.”

And wasn’t that so Draco? To follow these archaic rules no one else cared about, but then bend them to his own purposes. The mere thought filled Harry’s chest with warmth.

He kissed Draco hard and let his hands roam over the wonderful naked body in bed beside him. They both had morning wood, and there was no point wasting it. Draco responded eagerly, grabbing Harry’s arse and pulling him close until their groins rubbed together. 

Draco kissed him hard, biting as much as kissing him. He pulled back with a hungry glare. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard with that huge cock of yours.”

When he put it like that, what choice did Harry have? He had a finger inside of Draco’s heat without even registering that he’d dug his lube out of the nightstand drawer. Nothing mattered more than being inside Draco’s body. All of him. He added two and then three fingers, wishing he could put his whole hand inside. He wanted to taste him, but his tongue would have to wait for another time. Nothing could convince him to wait another moment before sinking his cock into Draco’s arse. He pulled his fingers out and gave those perfect globes of flesh a firm squeeze.

Draco, who had done little but chant and moan as Harry prepared him, pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, waving his glistening hole in Harry’s face. Harry grabbed his arse again, pulled the cheeks apart, and lined himself up. 

“Take me.” If Draco had meant it as a command, he failed. It was offered to Harry like a gift.

Harry thrust forward, losing himself to visceral sensation: hot, tight, slick, moving. He knew he was large, but Draco took him eagerly. 

Harry watched the little knobs that made up Draco’s spine rise and fall. His back was as expressive as his face, and Harry took in each twitch and arch, using each movement as a guide to increasing Draco’s pleasure. Draco shifted his weight forward onto one elbow and began stroking himself, and Harry knew he had to last long enough for Draco to come. He had to give Draco that pleasure.

Just when it was becoming too much, the heat and the pressure, Draco began shuddering and clenching around Harry’s cock. Free to chase his own orgasm, Harry dug his hands into Draco’s hips and thrust mindlessly until his body filled with a roaring bliss and his muscles all gave out. It was with his last strength that he uncoupled from Draco and aimed his collapse to one side.

They lay panting and staring at the ceiling. He was warm, relaxed, and happy. It was a great feeling. Harry could get used to regular sex and Draco in his bed.

When the Prophet owl began tapping at the window, Harry still didn’t trust his legs to hold him. He was almost disappointed that Draco was able to stand and let the bird in. Harry would have to shag him harder next time.

Draco looked over the paper and then threw it to Harry as he dug change out of Harry’s coin bowl for the owl. “We’re in it.”

Harry sat up and grabbed the paper. Sure enough, there was an article about their case complete with reference to Auror Potter and his Herbology expert, Draco Malfoy. According to the paper, there had been a raid on a warehouse the night before, so Fernsworth must have gotten some information after all.

Harry would need to contact Ron to get reliable details on where the case stood. He looked up and saw an uncertain look on Draco’s face.

“Do you need to go into work?” Draco was clearly aiming for casual, but Harry was glad he had missed his mark.

Harry shook his head and tossed the paper aside. “Robards is big on time off. He doesn’t like any Auror getting too attached to a particular case and fixating. I have the weekend off, and technically my part of the case is solved. We found where they were growing and caught people involved. Maybe not everyone, but anyone else is probably in hiding at the moment. Better to wait a couple of days anyway.”

“And me?” Draco’s eyes were wide and flirtatious, showing off their steely grey to dramatic effect.

Harry pretended to misunderstand. “Well, they will need to you examine and catalogue the plants on the farm. But that can wait until I am back on Monday.” He gave Draco a daft smile and enjoyed the heat of Draco’s glare.

“Fine. Be an idiot.” Draco stepped toward his pants on the floor, but Harry leapt from bed and intercepted him.

“As I have two days off,” he took Draco’s hand and pulled him back to the bed, “I was rather hoping I could tempt you to spend some more time with me. What happens after six dates in your ancient customs?”

Draco rolled his eyes but climbed into bed beside Harry. “They aren’t ancient. Medieval at best.” He looked Harry up and down with feigned disinterest. “Nothing happens after six dates, but at some point my parents will expect a visit.”

Harry couldn’t hide the horror that flashed across his face, but luckily Draco just laughed.

“We can hold off on that. How about we just enjoy the shagging?”

Draco was such a clever wizard. Harry appreciated that.

“Yes. Let’s do more of that. Shagging. Talking. Eating. Stuff without parents.” He nodded emphatically and was relieved when Draco nodded back.

But as he led Draco down to the kitchen a few minutes later, he couldn’t help but wonder if Draco might join him at the Burrow the Sunday before Christmas when the Weasleys had their big party. And maybe Narcissa might have room for one more at Malfoy Manor on Christmas Eve. Surely it would be lonely with just Draco and her, as Lucius still had another year in Azkaban. He decided to ask Draco at a moment when he couldn’t say no. Like maybe the moment before taking Draco's cock down his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/46950.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at [hd_erised @ livejournal.com](http://hd_erised.livejournal.com/). The author will be revealed January 8th.


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